Hey all! Sorry for the lack of activity here. Grad school is very time intensive. I’ll have a review of the CMS ‘iStrip” up pretty soon for those interested in it. As a preview, I really did NOT like the system. Anyway, I said I would post an excerpt dealing with a race of creatures called “Ghosts” or “The Ghosting Peoples,” so here it is:
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« Keep one hand on my armor; keep the other in front of you. » Fenni phrased it as advice, though Relan knew it was an order as she slowly stood, using the Keyen as a guide. Her fingers slowly sifted through his thick fur to find the metal and leather, though it seemed oddly cold. Or was it just that her fingers were so cold? « Do not use my eyes as a guide, and keep yours shut. Do not speak, and make no quick movements. Do you understand, Relan? »
« Fenni, what’s going on? »
« Do you understand? » He pressed.
« Yes, but—» Again he spoke aloud, his language somewhere between a growl and words. For Relan, it was almost painful to keep her eyes tightly shut, to not see with whom, or what, her kru’shan was conversing.
« What in the seven hells is going on? » She shouted at him, biting her lip and grabbing tight onto his scruff.
« I—I’m sorry, Relan, » he began, « I can’t tell you. » He paused. « They won’t let me. » The Keyen language was passed for a few more seconds above her head, before the leaves around the rustled, and Fenni slowly began to move forward. « All that they will let me say is, ‘by the Treatise of the Twelve, all who track with the Great Keyens will not be harmed. They also say by not traveling by river, we cannot freely leave until we are escorted back to human lands. Step up: roots. » Stepping over a root curl just in time, Relan cautiously asked while at the same time knowing Fenni would give no real answer,
« ‘Human’ lands? »
« Many other creatures inhabit these lands, Relan, some far older, others—younger. Most don’t want others to know they exist. Humans have a habit of—» He stopped suddenly, anxiety leaking through a shield he was putting up between them.
« Fenni, what are you doing? »
« They don’t want us to talk anymore. I’m sorry, Relan. From here on out, we walk silent. And hold tight, we might have far to go, » he warned, suddenly picking up his pace to a darting trot.
- - - - -
Caspian followed Ish’s guardian down a narrow but well-traveled foot path deep inside the hidden grove. Only a little ways in, the Ghost stopped and gestured for the half-blood to continue, alone. Suspicious, he passed beneath the long shadows of two large, stone pillars, one sunken deep in the loam and tilted a little overhead. As though the pillars were a gateway, smaller red-marked, white stones spread in a circle around, and Caspian felt a curious chill as he passed through, but did not let it take his attention. He could hear voices, angry voices, deep inside.
“…brought an Ayenroki with you? You let him live?” An outraged voice demanded at a near hiss. The half-blood stopped in his tracks, letting his weight settle on the moist ground silently.
“They are sworn to destroy us, Ish!” A different voice snarled. “How could you even think to let him leave here alive?” A more familiar voice forced itself over the others,
“Shall I have had him killed the moment I discovered what he was? Now, when Rilketh steals our children and sends them back to kill us? We need allies!” Caspian frowned when another interjected,
“The Ayenroki would never become our allies, Ish, and you know it.”
“I will not accept that! I will not accept that our debt to our ancestors—our children—will never be paid.” Ish spoke with a fury to quiet everyone else. “We all will be forfeit unless we survive, and we won’t if the Empire has its way. I will not have the weight of failing all who have come before on my shoulders. This curse must end!” Ish did not wait to see if her words, however much she proclaimed to dislike them, had any impact. She stormed silently from the circle, walking past Caspian as he stepped silently into the deep shadows, her eyes glowing sullenly red from the light of the moons. She paused a second, her gaze raking over him and the surrounding trail, before leaving.
Wondering if she knew he had been there the whole time, Caspian stepped back onto the trail after a moment, and continued down to where he had overheard the Ghosts talking. He knew there could be no more waiting, not if he wanted to get back in time, or alive. Not bothering to fake respect or supplication, he confidently paced down the trail, quickly coming to a small clearing of short, soft grass. Eleven women talking quietly, angrily, among themselves, immediately noticed his entrance. Not giving them the time to make the first move, he strode into the center of the circle and said to ruffle them,
“I am Caspian. Why was I summoned?” He wasn’t too surprised when the ire rose.
“The Ayenroki,” one muttered, her short, striped hair bristling. From her clothes and pale skin, the half-blood supposed she came from the north. Wondering if her attitude was colder than the climate to which she was accustomed, he replied,
“Yes. The Ayenroki. What do you want?”
“Ish was the one who sent for you, not us,” another snarled as they moved around him in a circle, all taller than him, gazes studying every inch of him as they glared down. He kept his face impassive, fingering the hilts of his swords. The movement did not go unnoticed.
“He wields swords. He must be Ayenroki. No Ghost would dare, not unless they were taken by the Empire.”
“I was not,” he unquestionably stated.
“Yet you bear the mark of a tsen’a vesh,” the pale Ghost pressed again, her mouth stretching into a snarl, “and wear the uniform of an Elite.”
“I don’t have the time to stand here and answer questions about my allegiance!” He suddenly roared. Using his fist to accentuate, he thundered, “I am an Ayenroki! I fight with a krandesh! Since the fall of the North I have fought against the Empire! If you can’t accept that, than Ish is right—your time is over.” If air could crackle without lightning, Caspian knew it would have then. He continued,
“In the last war, it was the Ayenroki who turned the tide of battle. Before we joined, nearly all of these lands were held by Rilketh, and since that war, we have kept ourselves separate from the world. The Isles do not even know what is happening here. Shi’li has already fallen. Other lands will follow, and then when you have hidden in your last forest, your last cave, you too will be overrun. You have no choice but to make allies, and you have no choice but to do so through me.”
Unnoticed during his tirade, another Ghost, a thin, older scout, had come into the circle of the red-marked, white stones. Talking with one of the eleven women, he turned behind him and growled something low. From out of the shadows, a tall, shaggy beast paced forward, eyes glowing golden beneath curled horns and armor creaking softly amidst the shaking of leaves above. Their eyes met, and instantly the animal’s narrowed. Without warning, it bared its fangs and lowered its head, charging forward with a snarl.
Caught off guard, Caspian did not even have time to pull his swords before the beast was on top of him, fangs snapping for his neck. Dwarfed beneath it, the half-blood’s arms barely shielded his face as he swore, mind racing for a way to fight back. But almost immediately the animal was dragged off of him, digging its paws in the ground to try to rush forward despite the combined pull of seven of the eleven Ghosts. Its mouth contorted, forcing out growls that nearly sounded like words, and to Caspian’s amazement, the Ghosts answered with growls of their own.
Warily regaining his feet, the half-blood backed away, pulling out his swords even as the women glared at him. Soon, the beast calmed down, a soft growl still emanating continuously from its throat. The Ghosts quickly released it from their holds, and panting slightly, it turned its gaze to them.